For His Little Girl Page 6

  He was gone, and she would never see him again

  Grief washed over her in endless waves, each one bigger than the first, until she buried her face in her hands to muffle her sobs. He was gone. He was gone.

  For a week afterward she walked about like a zombie. She had no appetite and nearly made herself ill by working extra hours at her job, trying to wear herself out, without eating. So the first hint of pregnancy passed by without alerting her. By the time she was forced to recognize the truth she was nearly two months pregnant, and so tired and undernourished that she was actually losing weight. One evening she quietly fainted in Ma's kitchen. Sarah, one of the medical students, caught her as she fell. After that there was no longer any doubt.

  She had the phone number of Luke's parents. Three times she started to telephone, and three times she aborted the call while it was still ringing. There was no way her pride would risk being answered by someone else, lamely explaining that she had known Luke in England, and was he there, please? She could see, as vividly as if they were in front of her, the significant glances his family would exchange.

  One of Luke's passing fancies! Still fooling herself, poor thing!

  And if he picked up the receiver himself? Hey, Luke…remember me? I'm Pippa-no, Pippa!

  In the end she wrote to him, and it took four attempts to get exactly the tone of voice she wanted: pleased about the news, cheerful, not asking, demanding or even faintly expecting-"just thought you'd like to know."

  She sent the letter off and began a week of agony, two weeks, three. Oh, God, he was going to ignore her! He probably felt entitled to. No strings. That had been the deal.

  But she knew that if Luke, who was all the world to her, could brush her off in such a cheap, callous way, her heart would break forever.

  After a month he telephoned, full of apologies. He'd been away from home, and his mail had just piled up. His voice was friendly, concerned, but not lover-like. In the joy of being able to believe in him again she found she could cope.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Queasy? Poor thing."

  She actually managed to chuckle. "Luke, I never felt better in my life. It's no big deal."

  "You're all right about it, then? I mean, you want to have the baby?"

  "Of course. I'm looking forward to it."

  "And it's okay-as things are? You don't feel the need of anything boring and old-fashioned…like a husband?"

  "Luke, honestly! In this day and age?"

  "Well, some people still do. Anyway, I'm available if-if you like."

  So there it was. In his own, dutiful, roundabout way, he had asked her to marry him. The temptation to seize the chance was mind-blowing. Why not? Other men had started from this point and made happy marriages. She took a deep breath.

  But before she could say the words, Luke added, "Of course, I'll support you and the baby whatever happens."

  And the moment was gone. He'd spoken just quickly enough to tell her what answer he was hoping for. He was a nice boy and he had a conscience. But conscience wasn't enough.

  "Darling, you're sweet, honestly you are," she said with a laugh. "But people don't have to get married these days. Am I such a weakling that I can't look after a little baby without you?"

  "Just thought I might have a place in the proceedings, Ms. Modern and Liberated."

  "Mr. Solid and Reliable," she teased. "You don't want to turn out like Frank, do you?"

  "Perish the thought!"

  They talked for a while longer, and he promised to send her some money soon. Laughing, she wished him all the best. She knew she'd done well, sounding just right, cheerful, invincible, ready to tackle life with a song.

  Then she hung up.

  Then she sat staring at the dead telephone.

  Then she locked herself in her room and sobbed until there were no tears left in all the world.

  When the rest of the boarding house heard about the coming baby, they took her under their various wings. Every budding doctor in the place regarded this pregnancy as his or her special province. She left the Ritz and became Ma's permanent cook. This was a relief to everyone. Luke's departure had been a blow to more than Pippa.

  Josie's birth was treated as a house event, and the other mothers in the maternity ward looked on in envy as visitors crowded around Pippa's bed. They even took bets as to which of the five young men would turn out to be the father.

  But none of them was. Josie's father sent a pretty bouquet, a card with affectionate wording, and an extra check to "buy her something from me.'' But he didn't come to see her.

  Soon after that, Ma's "rheumatics" grew worse, and Pippa took full-time control of the house. It was the perfect job for her, enabling her to keep Josie with her all the time, with an unlimited supply of willing baby-sitters. For this she received her room and board and enough money to enable her to bank the checks that came from Los Angeles.

  Luke might be irresponsible in many ways, but as far as money went, he had never let her down. When his finances improved, so did hers. Over the years her nest egg grew fast, banked in high interest accounts. By the time Ma was ready to retire, Pippa had enough for a deposit, and was able to get a mortgage and buy her out. Luke promptly sent an extra ten thousand dollars to pay for refurbishments.

  The place thrived. Pippa could now consider herself a successful businesswoman. Customers poured in, attracted by her high reputation and the excellence of her cooking. She thought wryly that she'd found herself in the same trap as her mother, longing to go wild with imaginative dishes, but catering for those who only wanted "good, plain food."

  Sometimes she remembered her dream, to be the greatest cook in the world. But that dream seemed very far away now. As far away as Luke himself.

  It was eleven years since she'd seen him, although his fast-growing celebrity status meant that she knew what he looked like. He'd grown a little heavier from the lean boy she remembered. He was a man now, but his face was still full of wicked humor and more attractive than any man had the right. The sight of his picture could still make her smile.

  The pain had gone, leaving only sweet memories and Josie, a child to delight any mother's heart. On the whole it was a reasonably happy life, until one day, Jake, who'd just passed his medical exams, said, "Pip, for a woman in her twenties you get breathless far too quickly."

  And suddenly she was a child again, saying, "Mummy, why are you always out of breath?"

  "It's nothing, darling. Nothing at all."

  But three months later her mother had been dead.

  "It's nothing, Jake."

  "You're telling me?" he'd demanded with gruff, angry affection. "When did you go to medical school? What does your doctor say?"

  "Well, I haven't actually-"

  "Then do it!"

  So she had. And what the doctor had told her had been enough to put her on a plane to Los Angeles, to introduce Josie to her father while there was still time.

  They were back at Luke's house in half an hour with the bags. Pippa got to work unpacking, "helped" by Josie, who bounced around getting underfoot until Pippa shooed her out.

  "Go and talk to Daddy," she said brightly.

  She kept the smile on her face until Josie had vanished, then sat down suddenly. Behind the laughter, she'd been desperate to send the child away before her gasps for breath became too noticeable. Josie knew only that her mother was occasionally poorly. She had no idea of the severity of her condition, and Pippa wanted to keep it that way until this trip was over. She clutched the end of the brass bedstead while her head swam.

  ''Not yet,'' she prayed frantically. "A week. Just give me a week.''

  Think about something else. Concentrate hard until it passes. Look around you. See how inviting this room is with its polished wood floor and two brass bedsteads, draped in white. No, don't look at the bed. It'll make you think how much you long to lie down. That's it. You're feeling better now.

  Outside, on the balcony, she could hear Josie calling, "M
ummy, look! We're at the seaside."

  Until now Josie had been too preoccupied with meeting her father to have much attention for the scenery, but the full glory of her situation had burst on her all at once.

  Luke joined her on the balcony. "Seaside!" he echoed with mock indignation. "That's more than just seaside."

  Pippa made her way out to join them. Luke greeted her with a grin. "Your mom took me to a seaside resort in England once," he told Josie.

  "And you said 'You don't call this a beach, do you?'" Pippa reminded him. "I grew up on a real beach.'"

  "And you said, 'Whadda ya mean, "a real beach"?'"

  "This is a real beach," Josie said ecstatically. "No pebbles, just miles and miles of sand. Can we go and see it now?"

  "Not now," Pippa said quickly. She could feel her strength running out by the minute.

  ''Oh please, Mummy."

  "What about jet lag after that long flight?" Luke asked.

  "I haven't got jet lag, honestly, I haven't," Josie insisted.

  "But your mom has. She's an old lady and she needs her rest." He grinned at Pippa. "You do look done in. Go and crash while I take Josie to the beach."

  There was nothing she wanted so much. She returned to their room and made a conscientious effort to finish the unpacking, but suddenly weariness came over her like a wave and she lay down thankfully on the bed.

  She was aware of Luke slipping into the room and drawing the curtains against the light. He neared the bed, and his footsteps paused for a long moment, as though he'd stopped to gaze at her, then he left the room. As she heard the door close behind him, Pippa's mind was beginning the slide into blissful sleep, trying not to heed the thoughts that reached out to snag her on the way.

  What will you do when you can't use jet lag as an excuse? You're a young woman and you move like an old one…always out of breath…always needing an excuse to lie down…what about when the pain comes? Dear God, let this go well! Josie is going to need her father so much… Don't let them suspect before I'm ready to tell them…

  Luke enjoyed nothing better than an excuse to visit the beach. He and Josie were gone for three hours, and by the time they returned home, father and daughter were thoroughly pleased with each other. As they approached the back door Luke was laughing at some idiotic remark of the child's, when Josie put a finger theatrically to her lips.

  "Don't wake Mummy," she said.

  "Think she'll still be asleep?"

  "Mummy gets tired a lot. She's always napping during the day, 'cuz there's so much to do for the boarders."

  "Well she's not going to work while she's here. We'll spoil her. Why don't you go and have a shower while I rustle up something to eat?''

  Josie skipped off into the bedroom, but Luke saw her emerge a moment later, clutching some clothes, her finger to her lips.

  "She still asleep?" he asked, and received a vigorous nod.

  Luke went quietly past her and up to the bed. Pippa was lying on her face, one arm hanging over the edge, in exactly the same position as when he'd left her three hours ago. Sleeping like the dead.

  Which was strange, because Pippa had never slept like that.

  She was a compulsive twitcher. He remembered one particular time years ago when she'd asked, "Luke, what are you doing on the floor?''

  "I spent the entire night on the floor. It was more comfortable that way, you mad woman.''

  "Meaning? Meaning?"

  "Meaning that being with you is like trying to sleep with a flailing windmill. You punched me in the eye once, and where your knee landed I'd rather not think of."

  "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry."

  "Don't be sorry. Just keep your knees to yourself," he remembered saying.

  Josie came into the kitchen while Luke was just about to dish up an egg concoction. She was wearing jeans and a shirt and shining from the shower.

  "Coming up!" he exclaimed, heading for the place at the bar that he'd laid for her.

  But Josie seemed not to hear him. She was gazing at the picture of Pippa and herself, standing in its place of honor. Luke put the plate down slowly. He'd seen the blissful smile on her face and knew he would need to tread very carefully for the next few minutes.

  "What are you thinking?" he asked gently.

  "Is it-here all the time?"

  For a crazy instant he toyed with a fantasy in which the picture was always on show to an admiring world. It was so easy to say what women wanted to hear, and he'd never thought twice about it before.

  Except once, years ago, with a girl whose honesty brooked no compromise, and who'd made him honest, too-at least for a while. It hadn't been anything she said, just the look in her deep brown eyes, always expecting the best from him. The same eyes in another face were watching him trustfully now.

  "No," he admitted. "You and Mommy have been my special secret."

  "Mummy said-" Josie didn't seem to know how to go on.

  "What did she say?"

  "She said she knew you loved us but-"

  "Yes?"

  "But you had another life, and we weren't part of it."

  For once Luke was stuck for something to say.

  ''She said you knew lots of other people now, and maybe they didn't know about us and-"

  He thought fast. "You were too precious to share. I've kept you for myself."

  Josie smiled and seemed satisfied. She didn't know that she'd done what no other woman had ever managed: made Luke totally and thoroughly ashamed of himself. He recovered, but only with an effort.

  "Why don't we get this eaten, while it's still good?" he said. "I'll make some more for Mommy when she's awake."

  The little girl frowned. "Why do you say Mommy? It's Mummy."

  "It's Mummy in England. Over here it's Mommy.''

  Josie frowned. "But Mommy's wrong. It's Mummy."

  He set his chin. "Mommy!"

  She set hers. "Mummy!"

  ''Mommy!''

  "Mummy!''

  ''Oh, boy, are you ever her kid! Stubborn, argumentative-"

  "What's argu-?"

  "It means that nobody else ever gets the last word. She was just like that.''

  And about the damnedest things, he remembered:

  "Pippa, what are you doing on the floor?" Luke had asked, the night following his sleep on the floor.

  "I'm trying to go to sleep."

  "Then get into the bed. I'm sleeping on the floor."

  "You slept on the floor last night. And according to you, it was all my fault. You said I was twitching, which was a black lie-''

  "I said you kneed me in the groin, and I have the bruises to prove it. Don't expect any action from me tonight."

  "So sleep well and recover, fast!"

  "Think I'm a ninety-eight pound weakling, huh? Pippa, get into that bed."

  "Nope. I'm sleeping on the floor."

  "So am I."

  "And so am I!"

  "We can't both sleep on the damned floor!"

  "Right! G'night Luke! I'm sleeping here. So off you go!"

  "Pippa, stop that, y'hear me? I'm ticklish. No, stop it. Gerroff! Now will you stop?"

  "Thought you were out of action tonight."

  "Guess I'm not so bad as I thought."

  "Mmm!"

  A while later he asked, "Wouldn't it have been more comfortable in bed?"

  "Let's find out."

  "Daddy?"

  "Sorry, honey. What?"

  "You went into a trance with a funny smile on your face."

  "I was just remembering one time-we had the craziest arguments-she just had to be the one who slept on the floor-guess I talked her out of that."

  He saw his daughter giving him a puzzled look and said hastily, "Eat your supper." He poured her a glass of orange juice and re-angled the picture.

  "Why do you keep a computer in the kitchen?" she asked.

  "Because this is where I live. It's the center of my life."

  Pippa's head appeared around the door. She was wearing one of
Luke's capacious white bathrobes over her nightdress, and had obviously just gotten out of bed. But her eyes were bright, and she looked well. In fact, she looked like the old vigorous Pippa, and he could shrug aside the stillness that had worried him while she slept.

  He came to stand in front of her, grinning. She grinned back, and the next moment they were in each other's arms, laughing, bear hugging with pleasure.

  "Oh, boy, is it good to see you'." he yelled. "Pippa! My Pippa, after all this time. Let me look at you." He held her away. "Still as ugly as ever, I see. Yuk!"

  ''Yuk yourself. What any woman ever saw in you I can't imagine. You were bad enough then, but now you're a disaster. Fat-balding-"

  "And you should see my dandruff." he agreed.

  They exploded into laughter again, hugging each other and dancing around the kitchen. Josie watched them with glee, cramming her mouth full, and chuckling between bites.

  ''Sit down and have some supper,'' he said, pointing her to a bar stool.

  "Can I just have some coffee now and come bad when I've had a shower?"

  ''Your wish is my command. Fresh coffee coming up."

  She took the cup he offered and turned to leave, but Josie forestalled her, calling, "Mummy, did you know that while we're here, you're Mommy?"

  "I had a feeling I might be." She smiled at Josie. "Mommy it is."

  "Come and sit down," Josie commanded.

  "Well, I-" Pippa slipped a hand into the pocket of the bathrobe and fingered the pills that she must take very soon.

  "I want to tell you all about the beach," Josie persisted.

  "Just a moment, then I must go and have a shower." She sat down at the bar beside her daughter, who launched into a vigorous description of the last few hours, which had obviously been pure heaven to her. Pippa listened contentedly. This was exactly what she'd hoped for when she came here. All would be well.

  "What's that you're taking?" Luke asked, seeing her slip something into her mouth.

  "Just an aspirin," she said quickly. "Bit of a headache."